by Judith Rolfs
Table of Contents
Title Page
COPYRIGHT
ENDORSEMENT
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Preview of Bullet in the Night
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
THANK YOU
Never Tomorrow
Judith Rolfs
Copyright 2016 Judith Rolfs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Art by Joan Alley
Editing by Paula Mowery
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Published by Prism Book Group
ISBN-10:1-943104-51-4
ISBN-13:978-1-943104-51-2
First Edition, 2016
Published in the United States of America
Contact info: [email protected]
http://www.prismbookgroup.com
ENDORSEMENT
“Layer upon layer of intrigue—laced with murder–propels this novel to the pinnacle of suspense. An ingenious plot, dynamic and complex characters, and an insight into the troubled avenues of human behavior rarely exposed make Never Tomorrow a stand-out for readers of mysteries, thrillers, and suspense.”
Patricia Gussin, NYT best-selling author of AFTER THE FALL
DEDICATION
To the faithful men and women who struggle through difficult challenges in marriage and do whatever it takes to love well.
And to mystery-lovers of all ages who follow the mental mazes I create for your enjoyment. I love engaging with you in this mind game.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Special thanks to my sister writers. The excellent Susan Sussman inspired me and assured me that I wasn’t a one-book author and could write fiction as well as non-fiction. Without her early encouragement I doubt I’d be a novelist today.
Becky Melby, Andrea Boeshaar, and other authors way beyond me in skill were willing to share their expertise. The men and women in my original critique group: Aubrey, Lis, Helen, Carol McLernon, to mention a few.
I owe a huge debt to my readers who took a chance on an unknown name and gave my books a boost. The folks at Books-A-Million who always graciously welcome me for book signings.
Sue Drefs, Tom and Pat Cavanagh, and Joann McLuen gave me more praise than I deserved. They all bless me with their friendship as well. I’m grateful Joan Alley heard God’s call to publish quality Christian fiction. My excellent editor, Paula Mowery, helps me polish prose and grammar and is unceasingly patient and diligent. Lynne Walters contributed as an early test reader.
To the Cursillo group of Northern Ireland– because of you I spent three weeks in Ireland where this story begins. My beloved Lake Geneva lake path where I honed the idea for the plot. The Angelus Gift Shop in Walworth which prominently displays all my books for sale and they’re not even a bookstore.
I’m indebted to my counseling colleagues, clients, and workshop attendees who sharpened my sensibilities for hurting people and helped me become an advocate for those fighting emotional battles every day. To Agatha Christie and Carolyn Keene who planted a love of mysteries and human puzzles in my brain.
Thank you to my husband from the top and bottom of my heart. His unflinching confidence in me made me believe I had something worth sharing. And to him and my children and grandchildren who are always willing to read, review, and be my first loving critics.
To the constant in my life, my amazing God, who puts wings on a few of my words and helps me string them together with purpose.
ONE
The Aer Lingus 747 began its descent over the variegated green patchwork quilt called Ireland. Lily glanced out the window and tightened her seat belt. Tray tables snapped into place and seats popped upright.
A sense of excitement filled the plane’s cabin. Passengers stood as the airplane taxied to its gate in Dublin, despite the male flight attendant’s repeated announcement to “Remain in your seats until we’ve come to a complete stop.”
Hardly anyone follows orders anymore, she reflected, smiling a response to the pilot’s gracious words at the cockpit door, “Thanks for flying with us.” Most of her fellow travelers were probably here for pleasure. Who, but she, had come to commit murder?
The rush of moving bodies carried Lily toward the baggage carousel and rental cars. She paused to read the signs, double-checking the way. She liked to be sure about details, never one to blindly follow a crowd. Her only luggage was the black carry-on wheeled behind her. She fought an impulse to speed walk. No need to rush, even though the plane had been thirty-five minutes late for takeoff.
At the Hertz counter, a dark-skinned Arab feverishly worked a computer as a trainer spouted instructions at his side. Lily tapped her foot, waiting her turn in a line three deep. Just her luck to get a new clerk. Finally, she reached the counter.
“May I be of service, madam?” He spoke with near-perfect English and only a trace of an accent.
Lily tugged out the lanyard around her neck and opened the leather pouch. She handed over her fake driver’s license and passport. How unbelievably easy they had been to procure through the gaping holes in the homeland security system.
Finally, the multiple forms required for rental had been double-checked and the employee directed her to the parking garage. A heavy-set matron in a glass cage handed over keys to the auto in space E12.
She maneuvered the Peugeot out of the airport, following well-marked signage. Driving on the left required close attention at first, but soon she relaxed. Using the map provided by Hertz, she enjoyed the drive to Shannon. Her iPhone sat inside her bedroom dresser in the states. The throwaway cell inside her purse would be untraceable.
Three hours later Lily reached Shannon’s narrow streets edged with tourists on foot who paid little attention to approaching cars. Sh
e’d forgotten about the congestion around Bunratty, one of Shannon’s must-see tourist attractions.
Quaint stores sporting unusual names like the Blue Onion and Little Hen were crammed with shoppers and interspersed with B & B’s, some so close their parlors were visible. Store shelves overflowed with Irish woolen, linen, and Belleek.
Lily reviewed the task before her. Wouldn’t her victim be surprised? A website check had provided the tour company’s itinerary. She carried a print-out of the schedule in her jacket pocket. Final group dinner, Bunratty Castle. Eight-thirty. Location: Ten miles from Shannon Airport.
As she drove she considered the private bed & breakfast inns. Irish B & B’s were plentiful, except on bank holiday weekends, which this wasn’t. Lily hadn’t pre-booked. No record of a credit card or personal check must exist. Fortunately, small businesses still eagerly accepted cash.
An inn with its sign of a galloping white stallion caught her attention. The print on the White Horse B & B sign promised proximity to the castle. Lily stopped at the green and white two-story building draped with vines. She counted parking spots—twelve cars—large enough for a single traveler to go unnoticed, and parked in the lot.
At the door, a lean, gray-haired innkeeper the far side of sixty introduced herself as Helen O’Grady and welcomed Lily with a sales pitch. “I don’t like to brag, but truth is, you’re at the best lodging in Shannon and lucky for you, I’ve a room.” Helen buzzed about like a mayfly, pointing out the sitting room with its rust plaid sofa and loveseat and the glassed-in porch with a table set for breakfast. “I serve from 7 to 8:30. Follow me, I’ll show you a cozy room.”
Helen headed upstairs without waiting for an answer. Lily followed. Helen stopped at the third door past the landing. “Here’s one of my best, simply furnished and en suite.” She lifted her chin proudly as she said the last word. “We redid the upstairs two years ago, turning the closets into private bathrooms. You won’t be finding en suite everywhere. The hooks behind the door work fine for your hanging clothes.”
Lily shuddered at the tiny sink and the toilet bowl that would bring her knees to her chest. Green fern leaf designs splattered across a yellow bedspread overwhelmed the small room.
“This will do. I’ll pay now. I’m getting an early start tomorrow and won’t need breakfast.” Lily pulled five twenties from her wallet.
“I’ll be right back with your slip, Miss, Mrs.?”
“Lily, and don’t bother, I won’t be needing a receipt.”
It amused her to use her nickname. Friends had chanted in high school, “Lily-white, you’re so good,” when she refused to sneak a smoke or skip class with them.
“As you please, ma’am. Tea’s available 24/7 in the parlor. Help yourself. Would you like me to suggest a restaurant for tonight?”
“Thanks, I’m all set.” She escorted talkative Helen toward the door and locked it behind her. Leaning her back against the worn wood, she drew a deep breath. So far things had gone well. No, actually flawlessly, and she valued impeccable execution of details.
Lily turned the bedspread over, folded it, and set it at the foot of the bed. The fuzzy yellow blanket beneath was all she’d need. She set her phone alarm to ring in thirty minutes and crawled under for a brief rest.
A catnap eluded her, but she rose refreshed after her time of being still. She washed up in the tiny sink and donned her brown silk pantsuit, non-descript and perfect for the evening with her quarry.
* * *
The parking lot at Bunratty Castle held several empty tour buses, one of which displayed the sign of Kendra’s group. Lily found a spot near the back.
Inside the restaurant the smell of chips fried to a golden brown mingled with the heavy aroma of Guinness. Lily located the banquet hall on the lower level, admiring the medieval art she passed. She scanned the patrons seated in the softly lit dining room while waitresses noisily cleared the remains of chicken and ribs and served dessert.
Searching for Kendra up and down the rows of long communal tables to no avail, Lily’s hands began to tremble. Would this elaborate plan come to nothing? She’d done her best, but had she made a mistake?
Continuing to scour the place, Lily finally spotted Kendra exiting the restroom. Her chin length brown hair framing eyes the same color swayed jauntily as she returned to her table. Four women sat with Kendra, finishing their coffee.
Lily breathed deeply in and out three times then edged her way over. She widened her eyes in mock disbelief. “Why, Kendra! I never expected to see you here.”
Lily had counted on her victim’s graciousness and wasn’t disappointed.
Observing that Lily was alone, Kendra said, “You’re welcome to join us for dessert. We’ve already eaten at the early seating. How about you?”
“I’ve had dinner.” Lily recalled the chicken sandwich she’d devoured en route. “It would be delightful to sit and visit for a bit.”
Kendra introduced Lily to her tablemates who were deep in conversation. Lily glanced at them but made no effort to remember their faces or first names and hoped they’d forget hers as well.
The women were chatting about the highlights of their seven-day tour. “Tomorrow it’s back home to Indiana.” A fiftyish woman with ladybug-red hair groaned. “Monday I hit the office again.”
Kendra turned to Lily. “Not me, I’ve five more days on my own.”
“How wonderful! I’m touring alone, too. It’s such a pleasant way to explore.”
“I hope so. This is my first solo trip ever,” Kendra confided as she stuck a fork into the remains of chocolate cake with green icing. “Tomorrow I go to Ballybunion. Have you been?”
“Yes, it’s a charming place.” Lily leaned closer. “A small coastal town dominated by its famous golf course. In the summer months the course draws a steady crowd, but it’s quiet in March’s off-season. You’ll love it. I’m off to the Ring of Kerry on a one-day bus tour.”
Lily spoke the last words loud enough for the other women to hear in case someone remembered this evening later. Ballybunion would be a perfect place to die.
Kendra chattered on. “I’m thrilled about stopping where I please. Next week I join my daughter at Oxford when her spring break starts. How I’ve missed that girl.”
“What fun.”
“She’s my motivation for this trip. Whitney’s been trying to cheer me up since…” Kendra’s eyes clouded over. “Anyway, she assured me Ireland’s a safe country for women traveling alone.”
“You’ll be fine.” Lily was only too pleased to encourage Kendra. “As long as you have a dependable rental car. What are you driving?”
“A Renault.”
Lily sipped her coffee. “Those little black sedans are everywhere.”
“Mine’s green.”
Lily smiled. “Well, I must be going.” She wished Kendra exciting travels.
“Not too exciting, I hope.” Kendra laughed.
Lily said nothing. Kendra had no idea what awaited her.
* * *
The next morning the sun struggled to make a presence, but steady gray rain overruled it. A perfect atmosphere for murder, Lily marveled as she dressed in her gray sweat suit. Her mind traveled back to her first murder. She’d expected to be nervous but, to her surprise, hadn’t been. In fact, witnessing death come seemed anti-climactic after the weeks of careful preparation. She shook her head to free herself from the past and visualize today’s plan. Time to head out.
Around nine Lily reached Ballybunion. In less than an hour she hunted down Kendra’s green Renault parked two blocks from the center of Ballybunion’s shopping district.
Lily pulled her own black sedan into a parking space six cars away then trudged through the light rain. She stopped at each shop, staring through the windows, going inside only when necessary to see the customers better. Finally, she spotted Kendra at a table next to the window of the Owl’s Head Tea Room hunched over a cup, studying Fodor’s Ireland guidebook.
Lily rushed insid
e. “I don’t believe this. What are the chances of running into you twice in two days?”
“No way. I thought you were going to the Ring of Kerry?”
“The rain made me change my plans. How nice to find you. I’d hoped I would. I’m about to go on the Cliff Walk. It’s a lovely site. Did you read about it in your guidebook?”
“Yes. I saw the cliff when I drove in.”
“Want to join me?”
“Isn’t it terribly steep and rocky?” Kendra was cautious by nature.
“Climbing the trail is perfectly safe. It’s one of the best sites in Ireland.”
“But it’s raining.”
“You have an umbrella and a rain jacket, don’t you? We’ll stay dry. This will be an adventure.”
Kendra tossed her head back. “How often will I have such an opportunity? Let’s.”
They hustled along the two blocks from downtown to the start of the trail. A painted sign at the base read “Caution On Windy Days.”
Kendra appeared to hesitate. “Maybe I shouldn’t after all.”
“Nonsense. There’s only a little wind today. Just mind your step. I’ll go first. You’ll see how easy it is.”
Kendra followed tentatively. “I wish my daughter, Whitney, were here. As a child, she loved playing in the rain.”
Lily smiled. “How nice. We’ll do the walk for her. The view will be incredible.”
The gradual incline seemed to relax Kendra.
Lily pointed toward the sea. “Look at those majestic waves beating against the cliffs.”
Two other tourists who had hiked to the top passed them on their way down.
At the summit the two women stood alone, leaving the other less adventuresome tourists below. Kendra snapped pictures. “Did you ever see anything so gorgeous?”
Lily laughed. “I’m queen of the mountain.” She glanced back at the trail. No one else appeared to be coming up. She waited a few minutes to be sure then pulled her camera from a zippered black case around her waist.
Ignoring the “No Trespassing” sign at the edge of the cliff, Lily climbed over the three-foot high guardrail. “I can get a better picture from here.”
“Be careful,” Kendra murmured, her voice catching.